Just One More (name subject to change)
by Used to be the Skai
Summary: What if the tree Evan had decided to climb that one summer was the same tree Connor decides to sit under when he takes Cynthia's sleeping pills. What if the boys meet on the day they planned not to see tomorrow? I suck at summaries, so I'll leave this like this. T rating for potty-mouth teens. WARNING: Mentions of Suicide / Suicidal thoughts Read and Review, hope you like.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- The Orchard

'Just one more,' Evan tells himself 'one more branch, one more meter, one more chance…' He could do it right this time.

The last attempt was stupid, bound to fail. He didn't even know what the needle had in it. For all Evan knew he could have stolen a flu shot from his mother's bag.

Hurray, now he was immunized.

But this one would work. It _had_ to. It was the only way out of the rut Evan had cycled himself way into. A spiral of guilt, anger and stress spurred on by his anxiety. The guilt he felt for ruining his mother's life, not to mention stealing the sample of whatever it was from her bag when she passed out at the table. The disgusting blend of guilt and anger he felt whenever he saw Jared; his _family_ friend. Jared was always very particular about the family part of it, lest Evan forgets, of course. The sinking feeling he still got whenever Noa crept into his mind. Noa, the only friend Evan had ever made on his own. And he had gone ahead and screwed it up. Memories of shouting and slurs made Evan cringe, his eyes stinging. At least Noa had moved quickly afterwards.

Yes, this was the only escape from the world Evan had made for himself.

Hopefully, all the religions were wrong and there was no after-life. Just a void, black and silent. That would be great.

Evan stops and surveys his surroundings. There are no buildings for miles out in the Orchard, no way to see how high he is unless he looks down. And looking down is not an option; then the stupid, naïve side of his brain, the side that still listens to his mom, would take over and Evan would find himself climbing down and walking home.

Sighing and looking up, Evan squints at the stars, the upper canopy was still above him, but through patches the night sky twinkles and battles through the polluted air to be seen.

"Sad," Evan hears himself mutter. "The planet's going to shit."

Then he leans back and lets go.

The wind whistles up around him, sucking the last of his air from his lungs.

The trees surge upwards astronomically fast.

'Their reaching for the stars,' Evan thinks.

There's a sickening crack and the forest seems to freeze around him, holding its breath. Then his left arm erupts in pain, and the world dims, turning grey at the edges. His head throbs, accompanied by his chest; his lungs more specifically, as his heart hammers between them.

Evan's heart thrums loudly, shouting in his ringing ears. 'I'm still beating!' it screams. His lungs burn; 'I'm not breathing,' Evan realizes, 'Maybe if…' The trees above him sway and leaves showered down.

"Holy fuck!" A voice cuts through the silence, the beautiful silence. "Shit, are you dead?"

Evan's eyes flick to the source; a figure standing half in the shadow of an oak donned in black. Despite himself, Evan groans. The figure comes out of the shadows a bit and pushes back the black hood, revealing a beautiful but pinched face. High cheekbones and pointed angles juxtaposing softly curling hair. Dark eyebrows brought together in a wrinkle of the brow.

'Is that what death looks like?' Evan thinks wistfully.

"Oh, fuck, are you breathing?" 'Death's' angry face morphs into one of horror and they rush over, pulling Evan into sitting position by the shoulders. They shake Evan a little and thump on his chest, which, fortunately, or unfortunately, restarts Evan's breathing. He gasps, lurching away from – whoever this is; probably not Death since they just saved his life.

Evan's breathing comes ragged, interrupted by coughs until he finally gets it under control. Then he turns to stare at his 'saviour'. The 'Would-be-Death' crouches nearby, watching Evan with uncertain eyes. Their hair is a lot less flowy than it looked to Evan before, it seems to hang in clumps, almost matted as it falls past their ears and brushes their shoulders. The black hood from before was simply a black hoodie.

"Your, uh, arm is broken…" 'Would-be-Death' says softly, glancing at the mentioned appendage hanging by Evan's side. Evan sighs, not able to bring himself to look. He'd failed. _Again._ And now he had another scar to show for it. He'd have to wear a cast for _weeks_, and school started back in only two… Maybe if he did it before school started, before anyone important saw him.

"Hey, I have a car. I can um, drive you to a hospital. If you want?" 'Would-be-Death' looks uncertain and surprised by his own words.

"No it's ok," Even hears his body reply, "I can walk." 'Would-be-Death' looks unimpressed and snorts at the idea of it.

"Can you even stand?"

"I- um- yes?" Evan tries, beginning to sound more like himself. Stuttering, blundering Evan.

"Hmmm" 'Would-be-Death' looks like he's trying not to smirk, but doesn't move either. Evan rolls onto his good arm and using his knees to get into a crouch and then stands unsteadily. His head's really ponding now, eyes swimming in the pain and ears ringing. His left arm is numb, however. He tries lifting it slightly, resolutely not looking at it for fear of a weak stomach. The slightest of effort sends pain coursing through his body, emanating from his arm.

Biting back a scream, Evan locks eyes with 'Would-be-Death' and tries to match their smirk from before. "See, standing."

Would-be-Death looks torn between horror and admiration before nodding mutely.

"Ok, well, I guess I'll be- uh leaving you to your evening with the trees," Evan says as confidently as he can muster. He starts towards the forest edge, ignoring the way his head swim and the world seems to dance around him.

Suddenly the forest floor is rushing up to him and then the world goes dark.

* * *

Maybe that was it?

Evan comes-to to the sound of incessant mechanical beeping. 'A hospital' he thinks to refuse to open his eyes, 'Or maybe a bomb. Who knows what 'Would-be-Death' was doing in the Orchard so late?'

"Nurse Hansen." A voice calls, there's the shift of fabric from the seat next to his bed. "Dr Lemming wants to talk to you."

"Ok," Evan hears his mom take a shaky breath and tries not to wince as she crushes his good arm before releasing and leavings. When the sound of both footfalls fades down the walkway, Evan opens his eyes. It is a hospital room, the EKG taunts him from the corner.

'a-live, a-live, a-live,' it seems to chant. More of the room reviles normal hospital things, white walls, an adjustable table for him to eat from while bed-ridden, and waiting chairs. One chair holds a dishevelled-looking boy in black jeans and an even darker hoodie. His jeans and hoodie are covered in dirt, leaves and twigs; which also populate his hair in its dark brown clumps. His breathing is slow and heavy, chin resting on his chest as he sleeps.

Evan suddenly realizes this is 'Would-be-Death', having carried Evan to their car and driven him to the hospital. It must have been after Evan passed out in the Orchard. Oh my God, this guys had _carried_ Evan to his car and Evan was out for _all_ of it. What else had happened, what if he'd wanted to kill Evan, or worse, do something to hi body? And Evan had just been at the mercy of a stranger this whole time...

The shrill of a cell phone rocks Evan out of his thoughts and Would-be-Death out of his sleep. He locks eyes with Evan immediately before fishing out the device and answering.

"What?" He snaps. "At the hospital. No. No. Sure, whatever." He seems to get more riled up the more he talks, or rather, is talked at. "Yes, ok, _I will_. Bye."

'Would-be-Death' hangs up, levelling an unimpressed stare at Evan.

"H-hello." Evan tries for civility.

"Hi," Would-be-Death answers shortly, but the venom from the phone call had drained from his voice, leaving him sounding drained. The boy's stare at each other for a moment then 'Would-be-Death' gets up to leave.

"Ah- t-t-thank you…" Evan mumbles, just loud enough to catch the other's attention. The dark-haired boy looks up puzzled and Evan is transfixed by the stranger's eyes, they're a beautiful sky-blue, but one is accented with another colour, black or brown, Evan can't see it from here.

Would-be-Death pulls himself to his full height, aka really tall; his face beginning to pull into a frown. "For?" he asks, the calm in his voice sounding strained like he's about to lash out but is holding it back.

"O- oh. Um- for the uh car ride- hum," Evan chokes out looking away. "A- And the f-f-f-f-"

"Forest?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Jesus, you don't have to thank me for the forest…" the boy says after a minute of silence, "I worked it out. I know you would have been fine the way you were - when I found you..."

"R-right." Evan is relived the other boy doesn't spell it out, but even more relieved that he _gets it_.

"And you're welcome," He stands there for a minute, seemingly unsure what to do next, and for the first time in his life, Evan initiates.

"Uh, can I um… Can I know your name?" What the hell, why would he word it like that? What was he a weirdo? An 18th-century knight asking a maiden for her hand? That was him stupid awkward Evan, making a fool of himself yet again. This was why –

Evan's mental rant was cut short by a giggle on the other side of the room. Not a chuckle or a laugh, Would-be-Death emitted a God-to-honest _giggle_, their shoulders going up with the motion and a hand clasped over their mouth.

"Sorry, it's just how you asked," Would-be-Death gets out between giggles, "And the way you looked completely_ mortified_ after…" Would-be-Death dissolved into giggles again, this time bringing Evan with him. The two laughed quietly together, Evan shocked by his own glee.

"Connor Murphy!" A man's voice cuts through their mirth.

A bulkier, blond version of Would-be-Death stands the door-way of the room, glaring first at Evan, then at Connor, apparently. Connor's giggle dies and the open smile on his face goes with it.

"Larry," 'Connor' answers coldly.

"You leave home in the middle of the night to come to do what? Giggle with some _boy_?! Are you _high_ Connor?! Who is this kid, anyway!?"

"Dad you're screaming," Connor reply softly. "This is a hospital, you'll disturb the people."

"Oh, I think you'll find I can be a _lot_ more disturbing given the chance!" Evan's heart rate picks up in the account of the threat and the wild look in the blonde man's eyes. The father, Larry is towering over his son now, arm raised. But Connor, in his 'Would-be-Death' glory, stands before him, not flinching, but defiantly leaning away from the coming blow.

"You're scaring my friend." Connor deadpans.

"I don't give a _flying F_-"

"_Larry._" A voice hisses from the hallway and a woman steps through with Connor's blue eyes and dark hair.

"Cynthia, look at him." Larry snaps, "In hear giggling away with some _boy_. After we searched for almost 10 hrs for him!"

"Alright Larry, calmed down though," Cynthia tries to placate. "I know you're frustrated and tired, but at least our son is safe. And it sounds like he's made a friend." Cynthia glances at Evan hopefully. Evan tries to agree but his heart rate is still through the roof and all he can do is nod weakly.

"Come, Larry, let's get our son home." Cynthia tries again.

"What the hell is going on in here?" The doctor's voice cuts above Cynthia's placating tones. "Mr Murphy, I said _one_ visitor at a time! Why did you bring the whole soap opera in here?"

"Sorry, Doc." Connor ground out, not explaining Larry and Cynthia's sudden appearance. Doctor Lemming takes the encounter at face value and ushers them all out the door unceremoniously. It closes soundly and Evan feels a whirlwind of emotion.

Who was Connor Murphy? Were he and Evan really _friends_? What did that mean? Did he even know Evan's name? Before Evan could get into it, Connor comes sprinting back into the room with a sharpie and grabs Evan's good arm scribbling a number there before glancing up at the bed-ridden boy.

"Text me, Evan." He says and then runs for the door.

* * *

**Hey, Chapter 1 down. Chapter 2 won't be up until I see at least one review. Please excuse my blunt ultimatum but if no-one wants to read I'll keep my fanfic to myself. **

**Love**

** -S**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Family

Connor hadn't been planning to live this late into Tuesday night. It sounded a little funny like that, but Connor had set himself a curfew. Be dead by 9. He probably should have put a reminder on his phone.

Now Connor wondered when in his night that a reminder would have caught him. Would he still be at home, screaming at Larry to let him see someone for his problems? Would he already be in the forest, Cynthia's sleeping pills in his pocket, heading to a peaceful chemical death? Would he have been lugging the sandy-blond 'Tree-boi', soon to be known as Evan Hansen, through the forest to his car?

Either way, he was now dozing off in Evan's hospital room, enduring the sappy looks the blond boy's mother, Heidi Hansen gave both boys. The nurse practitioner had already hugged Connor _twice_ for 'saving her boy.' As if the worst part of his life was that he now had a broken arm and a concussion.

Connor knew that look, the wild look Evan had back in the forest when Connor called to him. The resigned and disappointed look Evan had when he started breathing again. The way he had picked himself up, mainly due to Connor's jibe, and had clearly planned on walking to another tree. No doubt to climb even higher this time.

What if Connor had chosen a different tree tonight? Of course, the answer would be simple. They'd both be dead.

That thought must have lulled Connor to sleep because the next thing he heard was his phone blearing some K-pop song Zoe loved. He'd let her pin the song to her number in his phone last month, stating that it was for emergencies only, not that she was going to call him conversationally now. He caught Evan's eyes as he reached for the blearing device and found himself unable to look away.

"Connor." Zoe started on the other line.

"What?" He found himself snapping, eyes still watching Evan.

"Where are you, you dumbass?" She sounded stressed. "Mom and Dad are losing their _shit_."

"At the hospital." He ground out.

"What, at the hospital?" Zoe hissed, sounding almost panicked now. "What the fuck! You didn't overdose did you? Are you _dying_?"

"No. No." Connor answered shortly not giving up any other information. Since when had she cared?

"Oh- Okay, just don't die. Alright?"

"Sure, whatever." Connor wanted the laugh at the irony.

"And Connor, don't bolt, please." Zoe sounded like she was begging. "Cynthia's at her wit's end." Connor didn't know how to reply to that and didn't so Zoe pressed on. "Just promise me you'll stay put?"

Since when had she asked him for promises? What was wrong with her?

"_Please_." Zoe's desperation hit him somewhere in his chest and he sighed.

"Yes, ok, _I will_. Bye." He hangs up before that could have gotten any weirder. 'It couldn't have,' his mind supplies. He glanced over at Evan, trying not to let his annoyance of that phone call show through. It didn't feel like he did it right.

"H-hello." Evan began, timidly.

"Hi," Connor cursed himself for how short he sounds, but at least he wasn't snapping at the kid like he did at Zoe. Evan seemed to notice and was relieved.

The conversation went on pause after that and Connor figured Evan didn't know what to say next. To be honest, neither did Connor. He got up to leave, knowing Evan need to process alone. And sleep. Plus Cynthia and Larry were probably baring down the interstate to come get him. He wondered absent-mindedly if Cynthia had missed her pills.

Evan murmured something that sounds suspiciously like 'thank you' and Connor's iron clad heart convulsed in its shell at the sudden emotional over-load. He froze about half-way into standing and looked up at Evan. Was this boy that open?

"For?" Connor asked, unsure of how to proceed. Surely Evan wasn't trying to thank the person who undid his evening's hard work. That wouldn't make sense.

"O- oh. Um- for the uh car ride- hum," Evan choked out looking away. "A- And the f-f-f-f-"

"Forest?" Connor helped as gently as he could, ignoring the heart machine as it went crazy in the corner of the room. Evan didn't seem to realize.

"Y-yeah…"

"Jesus, you don't have to thank me for the forest…"Connor tried not to sound scolding. Evan didn't have to explain this part to him. "I worked it out. I know you would have been fine the way you were - when I found you..."

"R-right." Evan just looked relieved, the emotions displayed clearly on his freckled face. How was Connor just seeing that? Evan Hansen had an adorable spray of freckles across his nose. Huh, attractive.

"And you're welcome," Connor adds, remembering the gratitude retroactively. He mentally prepared for an awkward goodbye when Evan Hansen shucks his plans for the 2nd time that night.

"Uh, can I um… Can I know your name?" Evan blurted, then immediately looked horrified at his own words. The words had been one thing, oddly spaced and outdated, but the face Evan pulled after that set Connor off. Suddenly he was giggling, despite, himself. He stopped to explain himself, and then dissolved into giggles again, this time Evan laughing too.

That's how Larry finds him, giggling in a hospital room with a cute, freckled Tree-boi.

Larry had screamed, of course. Larry never talked to Connor, only muttered comments and screamed. Connor usually retaliates. But this evening, night/early morning (whatever), he found himself staying calm. Standing under Larry's raised arm, daring him to strike.

Connor didn't know what it was, maybe it's the intense beeping of the machine that is supposed to map the rate of Evan's heart-beat. Or the fact that Connor is beyond done with Larry, he was supposed to be rid of Larry by 9 today. Technically 9 yesterday, it was already 1 am. But _something_ gives Connor the energy to say;

"You're scaring my friend."

Connor heard Evans in-take of breath and prayed he hadn't gone too far for the anxious boy. Turning to look at him gave Connor no opportunity to gauge his response better. Evan was looking at his fingers, focused on his breathing.

Cynthia swept in then and saved all their ear-drums. Followed closely by Dr Lemming, who blamed the father's rage on the son, and ushered them all out. Connor got to the front desk and, seeing a sharpie, saw his chance. A mad dash down the hall ended in Evan's room, where he scribbled his number on the boy's unbroken arm.

"Text me, Evan." Then Connor had bolted before he could incur anyone else's anger tonight.

* * *

Now Connor is waiting, as patiently as he can, on his bed as Cynthia and Larry discuss his fate. Without all the facts, of course. Larry stipulates and supposes and makes things out to be the worst they are. Especially about Connor. And Cynthia doesn't have the heart or the backbone or whatever organ she needs to defend her kids, especially Connor.

"You _cannot _tell me you're ok with him sneaking out just because he made a new friend!" Larry screams his voice carrying up the stairs and to Connor's very open bedroom. He'd lost his 'door-privileges' last week after he slammed hit one night. Zoe slammed hers the next night and nothing happened.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Zoe pops up in Connor's doorway. She doesn't invite herself in but stands there until he acknowledges her. Connor glances over at her from his place, face down on the bed.

"What is it?" Connor can't bother to be upset. Not after what had happened tonight. Not when Zoe's actually been trying to reach him over the past two weeks. She'd met someone, he could tell, that had a different view of mental illness than the rest of the Murphy family possessed.

Connor would love to know who it was, he could kiss them. Now Zoe didn't feel the need to barge into his room unannounced, nor did she side with Larry when he started screaming and accusing Connor of getting high. Most times she didn't side with anyone, just kept to herself and excused herself when she could.

"I'm glad you're alive," Zoe states, finally answering his question. Connor looks at her properly now, sitting upon his heels. She's crying silently but doesn't move, as her eyes glisten.

"You- you. Wha-…" Connor wonders if that is how Evan feels. A little wrong-footed and very uncertain of where the mines are in this conversation.

"I just…" Zoe looks at her feet. "When you told me where you were my mind went to…" A hiccup breaks her speech pattern and suddenly Connor gets it. She's upset because she thought he had tried to off himself… she's crying because of it. Because of him.

"Let's talk in your room." He suggests, standing and she nods mutely, following him down the hall.

Connor sits on her floor, not wanting to dominate Zoe's space in any way. She frowns at him from the bed, patting beside her expectantly. He complies slowly.

"I don't know how you want me to start…" Connor mumbles after a minute.

"Why were at the hospital?"

"A boy fell out of the trees in the Orchard, broke his arm." Connor supplies mechanically, "got a concussion too."

"Wha- what were you doing at the orchard?" Zoe ventures. Connor gives her a pointed look and she looks away, eyes welling up again.

"Please don't cry about it…" Connor pleads. "It feels worse,"

"But- but," Zoe flounders, its very… 'un-Zoe-like'. "If you had chosen a different tree to…" She can't complete the sentence.

"Yeah…" Connor supplies, giving her the answer she needed, not what she wanted.

"Oh," is all Zoe can say for a while. She decided to follow it up with, "can I paint your nails?"

Connor grunts, "With watery eyes and shaky-ass fingers, I think the fuck not." He ignores the pained look Zoe gets on her face. "Let me do yours," He clarifies, "you still have that rose-gold one?"

* * *

Connor wakes on the floor of Zoe's room, to screaming and feet thudding up and down the stairs. Larry curses randomly interspersed with his name. On the bed, Zoe jars awake when a thud shakes the wall between their rooms. The Murphy siblings share a look before Zoe scrambles off the bed and opens the door.

"Dad, what the fuck?" She fires.

"Where's your brother? And don't you dare lie to me!" Larry screams at her.

"Jesus, he slept in my room last night." She yells back, "Not like we got much in with you and Mom screaming all night!"

Cynthia, hearing Zoe's words, rushes into her daughter's room, finding her son sitting on the bed-side mat, looking a little bleary-eyed.

"Good morning, Connor." She says, trying and failing to hide her relief.

"Mmm," Connor states noncommittally, knowing he can't produce the energy to snark right now.

"Come down for some breakfast?"

"Bacon?" he tries, getting up slowly as his bones protest being on hard-wood all night.

"Your father doesn't eat pork," Cynthia tries, even as her son moves to the stairs with her, past Zoe and Larry screaming at each other in the hall.

"I know," He mumbles in reply.

"Can I ask you something, Connor?" The tall boy seems to tense at his mother's words, but half turns, indicating openness.

"Why did you sleep on Zoe's floor?"

"We had to talk about something private last night." Connor answers, at length "and my room no longer has privacy. We must have fallen asleep after. Sorry for worrying you."

Cynthia has no words. Before she can think of some, Zoe storms downstairs, sitting next to her brother. After a moment she swipes the glass of OJ Connor poured for himself. The older boy just sighs and rises for another glass, instead pour the last of the milk carton into it. Zoe growls as Connor reseats himself primly on the bar-stool next to her.

"Switch?" she asks, mulishly. Connor rolls his eye but smirks, pushing the glass of diary at her and recollecting his citrus. Cynthia watches the whole thing unfold as if she'd never seen glasses of milk and OJ before.

"So, what are you kids doing today?" Cynthia tries to roll with the good mood. Connor shrugs, looking at his glass. Zoe hides a smile in her milk.

"I'm meeting a friend today." Cynthia's daughter supplies at length. "We're probably gonna pig out at A la Mode and then do some shopping."

"You should shop before you pig out." Connor comments hollowly then looks more shocked than Cynthia is that he said that out loud. "Sorry," he tosses out, cringing at his sister.

"No you're right, work up the calories." Zoe agrees evenly.

"Who are you going with?" Larry's voice floats from behind them. The kids tense, Connor's knuckles turning white on his glass.

"Alana," Zoe states.

"Bring your brother with you."

"No." Both children say in unison.

"Why not, I thought you two were chums again." Larry's voice was laced with acid.

"No, Larry," Cynthia says suddenly. "You are not going to shame your kids for beginning to mend their relationship."

"Mend!?" Larry screeches, "He's _clearly_ corrupting her. Zoe's never talked back to me before. And God knows _what_ he did to her in that room last night!"

"Larry! That's enough!" Cynthia cries, appalled at what her husband was insinuating.

"Why do you always take his side?!" Larry fumed. "Can't you see the monster he is? Are you both blind?" He whirls on Zoe now, hands raised. Zoe produces an undignified squeak as Connor pulls his sister to him, and then pushed her behind him slightly.

Larry glares at his son. "I wasn't going to touch her," the older man snarls.

"Oh I'm sure you weren't," Connor snides, cocking a cruel grin. Larry slaps him then, hard. The older boy is pushed back into his sister.

"LARRY!" Cynthia bears down on her husband, and eggy spatula raised to retaliate. "How _dare_ you hit my son for protecting his sister!?"

"Are you raising a hand towards _me_?!" Larry looks like he can't believe it. "He's the one who's out of line here! _Way_ out of line." He punctuates with a harsh poke in Connor's chest. The boy is still glaring at his father, on hand cupping his cheek. There's a little blood where one of Larry's ring grazed Connor's skin.

"He didn't get enough discipline as a child," Larry lectures, "That's why he turned out like this. Can't you see Cynthia? We have to shape him up while we still can."

"No," Cynthia says calmly. She looks at her kids, "Zoe, go help your brother clean up and go do something fun today. Take money from Dad's wallet."

Zoe nods, already taking Connor's shoulder and steering him towards the stairs. Connor still glares at his father, looking piqued for a fight but not wanting to drag his sister and mother into it.

* * *

**Aaaand, there's Chapter 2. Couldn't think of a better chapter name, sorry.**

**Anyway, like last time, need a review before I put up the next one.**

**Hoped you loved it.**

**-S**

**Quick question, itching for a good Klaus (TUA) fanfic, anyone has any ideas?**


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